


Post-Modern Witchcraft

by vagrancing



Category: Ookiku Furikabutte | Big Windup!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Baseball, Magic, Witchcraft, Won't Somebody Think of the Children, nerdlords
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-07-08
Packaged: 2018-03-25 15:52:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3816196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vagrancing/pseuds/vagrancing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>OMEN:</b> <i>noun</i> 1. anything perceived or happening that is believed to portend a good or evil event or circumstance in the future; portent.<br/>2. a prognostic.<br/>3. prophetic significance; presage.</p><p>(Some things that happen for a reason, and there's no point to ignoring the warning signs.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. All That Glitters

**Author's Note:**

> tags will be added as we reach characters/relationships/etc etc because right now i have only the vaguest of ideas. anyway HERE'S THE THING???? pls enjoy uwu

It was _teeming_ down. For all intents and purposes, it could have been a god weeping; there seemed to be no end to the rain, no light around the edges of the moody clouds gathered over Nishiura. There would be no sunshine today.

Instead of driving people inside, the weather seemed to drag them out onto the streets. They hustled and hurried in glutted crowds, separating to flow around or through opposing traffic in eerie mimicry of the water pouring down the drains, exchanging curt nods and brief greetings that bowed under the weight of _hurry, hurry!_ laying across the town. They were like insects, or shift crews, or some other mindless industry.

Abe pulled his hood more snugly over his head. Part of him wished he’d bothered to bring an umbrella, but the vast majority of him knew he’d only be annoyed with it anyway. People with umbrellas were a menace to society, always holding them too low and walking under the cover of eaves as if they didn’t have their own portable roofs. He hissed obscenities at them under his breath. It made him feel a little better.

A sudden gaggle of noise greeted him as he opened a cafe door, covering the sound of his stomping boots and making him wince reflexively. He should’ve known it would be crowded in here. The same mentality that sent the little bugs scurrying from their safe boltholes and into the rain brought them to cafes by the throng. Wasn’t winter the social season, once upon a time? Everyone should be at home, tucked under blankets and watching bad tv reruns, Abe thought. Instead they felt the need to invade the world and _socialise._ Humanity made no sense sometimes.

He joined the line at the counter - slow and indecisive as molasses - and rolled his eyes at the familiar waitstaff. The pixie-faced girl behind the coffee machine hid a smile and tutted a finger at his surliness. To Abe, she glowed with something _extra_ , that telltale sign she was something special and more than the mundanities around her. Everything her hands touched took on the same light, a little bit of glitter that conveyed the care she put into her work. For the dead-eyed student and his full load of textbooks, Abe smelled a charm for mental clarity. The sniffling child got a shot of immunity booster in his miniature hot chocolate. A new mother received a spark of extra stamina. They went away none the wiser, but they’d be back, and they’d get something else they needed next time.

“Shinooka,” Abe said by way of greeting when he finally reached the head of the line. “Just the usual today. Can I get it extra hot, though?”

This last was part of the ‘secret menu’, available to the regular _irregulars._ The owners and most of their staff were not exactly normal themselves, hosting either supernatural lineage or more human magics. Spotting another irregular was easy enough: like Shinooka to Abe, they seemed more vivid somehow to each other. He counted ten others amongst the clientele, although he only vaguely recognised three of them. The secret menu was simple code for what magic they wanted a boost of in their drinks; Abe’s request was for a warming charm to drive the damp chill from his bones. He tinked a couple of coins into the tip jar as unofficial payment for the extra, and then a few more for the ones he’d seen Shinooka put out for normals.

She saw, and smiled, and he tried to control the reddening of his cheeks. “Thanks, Abe-kun! No problem. Geez, it’s kind of gross out there today, huh?”

“It’s madness. Do people come in from other towns just to clog the sidewalk or something?” Abe sighed, and decided he wanted a pot pie for lunch as well. With Shinooka too busy for casual conversation he hunted down a table. The cafe was so packed that Abe ended up awkwardly half-haunting the coat rack after tugging a little table over, but it was better than trying to eat off his lap. At least this way he could get some work down on his laptop until the pie arrived…

Noisy as it was, Abe managed to tune most everything out and concentrate on his incredibly boring report. The pie was quickly devoured and he even allowed himself the luxury of a second hot drink. When his temper was on edge, it was best to treat himself nicely, Abe had long since found. It saved him from snapping at strangers. Most of the time. In fact, he was so relatively mellow that even the persistent _squeak-squeak._ of wet-soled shoes shuffling over the cheap linoleum floor took a solid couple of minutes to register on his annoyance meter. Eventually it broke into his mood and his eyebrows snapped together balefully. Abe scowled around to find the source, finding a twitchy guy about his age sidling from foot to foot nervously as he peppered glances about the cafe, turning a number card over and over in his hands. 

_Squeak-squeak._ There was no room; that much was clear. _Squeak-squeak._ A table came free for a brief second before being absorbed into a larger conglomerate. Abe could see Shinooka’s worried frown. _Squeak-squeak._ Mr Twitchy’s shoulders were slumped in utter defeat. Even the squeaking sounded more pathetic. It was one of the more depressing things Abe had seen all day. Possibly even all _week_.

He felt his eyebrow twitch and ground his teeth together rebelliously. A curt work secured a chair that was being used as a footrest; a tug on the kid’s wrist had him squawking but giving no resistance as Abe plunked him in it. Switching the table numbers wasn’t a difficult task. He ignored Shinooka’s relieved smile - he hadn’t done this to be _nice_ , after all, just to stop the damn noise. His purloined table wasn’t big enough for two people, not comfortably, and certainly not if he was trying to get work done. Resigned, Abe put his laptop away and focused on this new - if temporary - intruder to his life.

Those long-fingered hands were still wringing themselves. The shoulders were still tense, and the eyes wouldn’t quite meet his. Well, that was just downright rude, Abe thought. And awkward. And somehow embarrassing, in a vicarious sort of way.

“Y-- Th, than,” the words were so soft Abe could barely hear them, and he resorted to just about lip-reading for confirmation. It wasn’t easy with the stuttering. “Thank...you.” The kid finally looked up at him, eyes wide and bright as a startled deer’s before the gaze slid sideways and down. “For, for..this.” His hands finally stopped flapping, instead taking a soft grip of the table’s edge like someone might pull him away for it.

 _Wow._ Somehow that was really irritating. For someone who had to be, what, eighteen? nineteen? years old, this guy had zero confidence and zero social skills. Was that possible? Abe could feel the twitch return to his brow, and instead of grunting acknowledgement of this attempt at conversation, he heard himself say, “What kind of person can’t find themselves a damn seat in a cafe? Are you a shut-in or something?”

Even coming from him, that was a little harsh. Abe knew it as soon as it left his mouth. And even if it was somewhat justified, he felt like a brute when his new seatmate visibly flinched, shrinking even further in upon himself. If normals were generally dull to his eyes, this kid was erasing himself from existence. Abe shook his head and sighed.

“Well, it’s all right. I’m leaving soon, anyway, so you can have the table.” Over a soft noise of protest Abe couldn’t help himself from adding, “And don’t let anybody bully you out of it, either.”

“N-no, that’s--!” Abe’s scowl deepened, and the other guy gasped himself into brief silence. HIs mouth worked like a panicked fish for a few moments. “I’m...not staying. I’m just-- drink?”

The fact that there were clearly gaps in these sentences made Abe wonder if Japanese was his second language or something. It didn’t soften his attitude one whit. “Well, whatever, then. Geez.” With nothing better to do until his own drink was finished, he studied this strange specimen from the corner of his eye, dicking around on his phone. He was nothing special to look at, especially with that non-existent aura. Hair and eyes of a matched golden brown; about as much solidity to him as a house made of toothpicks. He was still clutching at the edge of the table, looking miserable and more than slightly damp - clearly not the type to remember his umbrella on a rainy day. Who let him out of the house without a minder? It was baffling.

One of the waitstaff hurried over with the kid’s drink, giving him a sympathetic smile as she dropped it off. He stammered his thanks, then chirruped in delight at the design on top: Clever Shinooka had arranged foam and coffee into the shape of a smiling cat. It was cute, Abe supposed, absolutely not miffed that she never gave _him_ little designs like that. He caught a whiff of +10 Confidence over cinnamon as the kid turned the cup around carefully to examine it at all angles…

For a brief second, he glowed.

Abe’s head snapped up, startling the other back into hunched self-defense. No, there was no glow here. Had he imagined it? Was it just Shinooka’s extra-strong charm? He glanced around, seeing if the other irregulars had noticed anything, but none of them were looking their way. Even Shinooka had her head down, busily turning out drinks by the dozen. Annoyed at himself, Abe went back to checking the weather on his phone. It was probably just a trick of the light.

His seatmate’s phone rang, tinny with the ringtone rendition of _Take Me Out to the Ballgame._ Abe couldn’t say if he was more surprised by this or the squawk that followed it; Apparently he hadn’t been expecting a call. It took more fumbling than plausibly necessary to get the phone out of a jacket pocket but eventually there was a miracle. The kid looked at the caller ID and again - so briefly Abe could have missed it if he’d blinked at the wrong time - his aura lit up bright gold before deadening completely. 

Abe stared openly now, not hearing the brief, disjointed conversation of _Ruri?? Is- What’s wrong? N-no, but you don’t-- I didn’t!_ and so forth. What was happening here? There was no way an irregular would be able to hide their aura under normal circumstances, right? Certainly not someone like this, who couldn’t even hold a decent conversation with a friend over the phone properly. 

A black feeling crept into the pit of his stomach and made itself at home, purring nastily. A rainy day, an oddity...this wasn’t a coincidence. Abe may have been too surly for his own good and too hateful of math, but he knew an omen when he saw one. What was even more worrying was that it had come to him, burned-out and bitter already, too heartsore to take on something like this. Someone like this. He felt like putting his head in his hands and staying like that forever.

The chair across from him clattered back from the table; suddenly the kid was all movement and bluster, looking almost panicked. “I’m-- leaving, thank you again!”

“Hah?” He was already moving, shuffling hands into gloves and jacket over shoulders, inching towards the door. “What about your drink?”

“Oh…” The mug was considered, Shinooka’s busy form was considered, and the result was a whine of frustration. “No, n-no time. I’m sorry!” 

Then he was gone, jogging out the doorway and into the ceaseless rain like he’d never been there, never sat across from Abe at all, like the still-steaming drink had appeared there all by itself. He stared at it, wrestling with himself. A group of young mothers frowned at him as Abe started cursing and picked the damn thing up, stalking over behind the counter to grab a takeaway cup himself. “Abe-kun?! Is everything all right?”

“Ah. Sorry for barging in, but you looked busy. It’s okay if I take one of these, right?” Without waiting for an answer, he dumped the drink in - _bye bye, kitty_ \- slapped a lid on it, and made a beeline for the door. He didn’t see the thoughtful look Shinooka left on his back.

It wasn’t until he was outside, with the rain pelting him in the face, that Abe realised he had no idea where Mystery Dweeb had gone. In the back of his mind he’d had a half-formed thought that he’d just look for the golden glow and head for that, but of course that wasn’t going to work. There were enough irregulars about to be distracting, too; eventually, with his temper beginning to steam, he headed left down the street at a light jog. _When in doubt, follow the natural paths._ Left was for reconciliation and clarity; right was for hiding and obscurity. Maybe, for once in his life, he’d find the right way. 

Abe continued to charge through the downpour, feeling more put-upon by the minute. Why couldn’t he get an easy omen, or at least one on a less squelchy day? Why did he have to be out here chasing down some oblivious drip with a latte in hand? He didn’t deserve this. He was a nice-- okay, he wasn’t a _bad_ person. Surely he’d already had enough bad karma in his lifetime. Surely there was--

 _There!_ It was embarrassing how pleased he was to have found his target; Abe allowed himself a triumphant whoop anyway. The sound was enough to bring the other’s head around in startlement, aura flickering in fits and starts - was it recognition, maybe? - before he turned to see who Abe was coming after. Abe didn’t stop running until he was nearly on top of the guy, panting slightly and holding out the abused latte like an offering.

“Wh-- _Me??_ ” It was like he couldn’t even conceive of being remembered, let alone worthy of being chased down by a madman with a coffee. “You didn’t...have to…”

The clouds parted, ever so slightly. There were rainbows in Abe’s vision. The world moved perfectly into place. A feeling of absolute calm gripped him close.

He put the cup into his omen’s hand and said, with complete aplomb, “It’s dangerous to go alone. Take this.”


	2. (blink and) You'll Miss It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All that glitters isn't gold; sometimes it's diamond, sometimes it's cold.

In hindsight, Abe’s not sure what he expected.

At least the guy finally took the cup, peeking up cautiously at him like he was gonna bite. Abe watched the reference go flying over his head, caught up in the sudden bitter breeze, bitter as Abe’s disappointment that this attempt to be socially relevant was shot down in flames before it had the chance to live.

(Was his karma _really_ so bad?!)

One sip and Shinooka’s charm kicked in. The peeping turned from cautious to curious. Shoulders slowly straightened. After a few seconds of fish-like movement, lips managed to form actual words. A whole sentence, even. _Glory, hallelujah._

“Um...th-thank you for bringing me this. And--for earlier.” A deep breath and a glitter of some emotion Abe was unable to identify; a bow. “I, I’m Mihashi.” 

This was progress. Having a name to put to impending disaster helped Abe regain his mental balance. “Abe. What’s so important that you ran away from the best coffee in town?”

“--OH!” The flightiness returned in full force, making Mihashi look like nothing so much as a small bird caught in a crosswind as he darted a step first to one side, then the other, obviously chagrined that he’d forgotten his mission. “I’m-- it’s important! I forgot and it’s, Ruri said…!” This time he flurried towards the road, not even looking at the blaze of traffic. Abe’s heart leaped into his throat with a pulse of panic. Without thinking, his knuckles grounded themselves at Mihashi’s temples, checking his movement and rewarding him with a squeak of alarm.

“ _Mihashi._ That’s the main road. Did ‘Ruri’ tell you to throw yourself in front of a car?” Mihashi shook his head no as Abe dragged him under an overhang out of the rain. Dimly, Abe could feel a sense of-- familiarity? Rightness?-- settle in at the back of his head, like looking after this idiot was some kind of hidden instinct. Well, he _did_ already have an irritating little brother, after all. And the pitchers he’d...no, but that was a lifetime ago.

He sighed and released Mihashi’s head, counting backwards from ten to a whispered _Sorry, Abe-kun_ and ignoring the way his own name resettled back into his skin. “I didn’t...mean to scare you…” Mihashi continued, still curled in on himself in abject apology. Abe wasn’t _scared,_ that’s not what he’d meant, it was just _irritating_ that this guy couldn’t even take care of himself. “It’s-- a game.”

“A _game?_ ” Abe frowned at this, piecing together what very, very little he knew about the other youth and coming up near to blank. “A sports game? Ah--” _The ringtone._ He felt an all-too-familiar sinking in the pit of his stomach. “Baseball?”

Mihashi gaped at him in wonder. _Right on the money._ “Y-yes! Baseball! It’s-- does Abe-kun like baseball, too?”

“Sure.” He shrugged discomfort over his shoulders. “But there’s no big games on today, right? Why’s this one so special?”

“It’s! Not a big game, but...a friend!” Mihashi made to dart back into the world again and this time Abe let him go, trailing at his elbow. “He’s on the television, for his university!” He stopped, frowning as he looked left and right. “I was supposed to-- but then I came...back here…”

Somehow he looked more lost than just physically. Abe felt himself counting backwards from ten again and wished for a translator. “Mihashi, do you know where you’re going?” There was a not-quite nod in return and he knew, he just _knew_ that that tic in his eyebrow was going off. He couldn’t feel it, but he _knew._ He’d strained his patience to the limit already and it was about to snap. Being soaked only added a certain squelchy dimension to his surliness. 

Abe changed his priorities from figuring out what the hell Mihashi was talking about to simply getting him home safely. He’d sort the rest out later.

“Tell me where you’re trying to go, and if you say ‘It’s left and then right’ or something equally inane, so help me…” Eyes lighting back on the now-forgotten coffee in Mihashi’s hand, he had a small brainwave. “And finish your drink before it gets cold! Geez.”

Wisely shuffling just out of arm’s reach, Mihashi drank obediently enough. Abe waited, tapping his foot, as the colour returned to Mihashi’s cheeks and his stance relaxed slightly. He hadn’t _really_ meant for him to knock the whole thing back in one gulp, but that’s what happened anyway, and Mihashi dutifully popped the remnants in a nearby trashcan. The rain was coming down harder; Abe clenched his teeth, muttered a curse, and stepped in closer to Mihashi’s side than he really wanted to be.

He held out his hand. “First off, why the hell didn’t you bring an umbrella. Second off, give me your palm.” Mihashi obeyed again instantly, even if his body language screamed the assumption that he was going to wind up hurting from this. Where the hell had he been so knocked around? Now wasn’t the time to dwell on it, however; instead, Abe ran his fingertip over pale skin in a simple hex. He felt rather than heard Mihashi’s gasp, but it was the increasingly-familiar flicker of his aura that grabbed his attention. The sense of _rightness_ pulled at him again, and it wasn’t until Mihashi made a sound of wonder that Abe realised he was still holding his hand, cold and damp and too well-fitted to his own.

“Abe-kun stopped the rain…?” Mihashi waved his free hand through the air experimentally. Hissing, Abe dragged it back and glanced around to see if there were any witnesses. Usually he didn’t practice magic in public, but these circumstances were hardly ordinary.

It took him another moment to remember to drop Mihashi’s hands. “Idiot! It’s obviously still raining, use your eyes. I just stopped it from wetting you as much. Don’t draw any attention. Anyway, don’t you have a game you have to record or something?”

“Ah! The station…” His head bobbed left and right as Mihashi looked around, obviously trying to spot a train station that was still two blocks away. “I was sure--”

“I can get you there. Do you know which train you need, at least?”

“I do! I can...if Abe-kun can show me the station, I can get the train.” Big brown eyes looked at Abe with the most conviction he’d seen out of Mihashi in the half-hour or so he’d known him. He sighed and headed off, wondering if it was too early in life to start taking medication for his blood pressure.

“Come on, then.” He attempted to unravel the thread of conversation they’d started before, grabbing the disjointed ends and seeing if he could make them fit. “So your friend’s playing a baseball game for his university team, and they’re showing it on television?” Mihashi nodded so fast Abe was worried his head would fall off. “It’s only the start of the season. How’d they manage that kind of coverage?”

Mihashi wiggled his hands in the air as if that would help him communicate better with Abe, or the world at large, or something. “Um! It’s just...an exhibition match. F-for charity, I think?” He mulled this over ponderously, almost walking out into traffic again until Abe caught him by the shoulder. “Something like that...or he wouldn’t start. I thought, maybe it’s raining there, too? B-but Ruri says no.”

“He wouldn’t start because he’s usually on the bench?” Abe pressed. 

“Mm!” Mihashi agreed, then bristled with a confidence he didn’t have in _himself_ even after Shinooka’s hard work. “B-but! Kanou-kun is a good pitcher! He’ll be starting in no time!”

There was a determination in his eyes that actually made Abe back up a step, blinking in surprise. “Sure? If you say so,” he agreed cautiously. 

Mihashi’s hackles settled, apparently mollified. “Mm.” Abe let the silence stretch under the pattering rain, increasingly exhausted and definitely planning to take a nap when he got home. It didn’t take them long to get to the station; a block away and they were caught up in the tidal flow of people heading in the same direction. He let them carry it along with a certain relief. It was easier than fighting for individual space, for his own pace, for individuality. Sometimes it was just more convenient to be part of the crowd.

It wasn’t until they were almost at the ticketing booths that he thought to ask the obvious question. “Mihashi, you said you were ‘supposed to’ do something. Play? You ‘came back’ here, as in moved back?”

Maybe if they’d met under different circumstances, or if Abe’s concentration wasn’t already worn thin by frustration, or if-- there were a million different scenarios, but they all ended with: _Maybe Mihashi wouldn’t crumple on the spot._ Maybe he’d be able to answer without a mini-breakdown. Maybe. But not there, or then. And maybe somewhere Abe would have been equipped to deal with this reasonably.

But not there. Not then. Not at all.

Oblivious to the scene _he_ was causing, burning only with the secondhand embarrassment of Mihashi’s total self-destruction, he dragged him towards an arched recess, propping him bodily against the wall. Something thrummed loud and spiteful between his ears. Abe opened his mouth to hiss something scathing. Mihashi’s shaking hand reached up to twitch a fat tear from his cheek.

All the irritation left him, and Abe felt hot shame rising welts within him. What was he about to do to this poor kid? What had happened to him to cause such a reaction to such a simple question? Why did Abe simultaneously want to strangle and comfort him? These were uncomfortable mysteries, best put aside for another day. One with warm edges and hot cocoa, maybe.

Instead of a curse, he gripped Mihashi’s elbow gently and asked, “What _happened_ to you?” Instead of an answer, Mihashi curled further in on himself, shaking his head desperately. Abe gripped his hands, carefully prising his arms from their tight grip around himself. His thumb was startled by the feel of hard callus; he turned the hand over for closer inspection, ignoring a squawk of protest. Pitching calluses. There was a distinctive formation to them that was hard to second-guess, and Abe was all-too familiar. He turned over the second hand anyway, to confirm his suspicions; the calluses there were softer, fading away with lack of use. “ _You_ were a pitcher.”

It wasn’t a statement, nor quite a question, but Mihashi answered him anyway. He sobbed and shakily nodded, then let out a soft moan as if the admission was one of far worse guilt. The words he’d clammed up babbled out in desperate rush, starved of admission and oxygen. “I did-- but it, it wasn’t fun with me, so...Kanou-kun was b-better but I didn’t! I never did it!” Mihashi sobbed again, tearful eyes begging Abe to understand, to make sense of these of butchered sentences and absolve him of his sins. “I couldn’t...but it wasn’t fun, it _hurt_ , so I..came b-back.”

Drained, he straightened, staring down at the floor. “I won’t do it any more. They can have fun, now.”

Abe considered that this was the closest to clarity he was going to get today, and picked his battle. “But you’re still going to watch the game?”

Mihashi flinched, then finally met his gaze with the closest weapon he had to determination. “Y-yes! Kanou-kun has worked hard.” In a smaller voice he added, “I owe him this, at least.”

“Well, I don’t really get it, but that’s up to you,” Abe sighed. “Here, wipe your face. You’re a mess. People will think I’m bullying you.” It only now occurred to him that this was how it must look, and it wasn’t until his sleeve had cleared the worst of the damage from Mihashi’s face that he realised what he was doing. He sighed again. “Come on; you’ll miss your train.”

With Mihashi following at his heels, subdued, Abe managed to get them into a relatively short queue. He didn’t try making more conversation; he didn’t have the energy left. Instead he tried to grasp the pieces of the puzzle he’d been given so far, turning them over in the hopes they’d fit. Pitcher. Protector. A glimmer. A whimper. Open brown eyes, both fearful and trusting…

He rubbed at his shoulder as Mihashi rung up his ticket and headed, heavy-heeled, to the platform. “Hey, Mihashi. Are you going to university here?” He squawked in surprise and nodded, cautious. Abe let out his breath in a whoosh, leaning on the side of a turnstile. “There’s no team,” which he suspected was at least part of the reason Mihashi was here to begin with, “but a few of us get together sometimes to watch a game. Come by the lounge in the first dorm if you feel like it.”

Mihashi made a sound that could have been assent or polite denial, inching his way through the turnstile. On the other side he faced Abe squarely, regarding him unblinkingly for an uncomfortable moment before bowing. “Th-thank you, Abe-kun. I’ll see you.” Abe couldn’t help but feel like he was being dismissed. He resisted a frown.

“Yeah, you too. Oh-- Mihashi!” He paused, caught in the act of walking away and blinking owlishly. “Change of out those clothes as soon as you get home - even your socks!” Abe’s anti-soaking hex wasn’t going to last forever, and once it wore off it’d be like all the water it had held at bay would hit at once. Mihashi nodded, and sidled off for good. Had he really even listened? Was it worth the worry of jumping the turnstile and shaking some common sense into him? No, probably not, Abe concluded. No sense adding a fine to his frustrations.

He walked out of the station and stared up into the sky, careless now of the rain as it ran rivulets through his hair and over his skin. This was far from over; that wasn’t the problem. The problem was that Abe had no idea how to begin it in the first place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pacing is hard, guys.


	3. Blink (and it's gone)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes it seems like the only direction you're headed in is down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO FRIENDS sorry I disappeared...don't move house. it's fun but also exhausting. aNYWAY I'd say 'pls enjoy' but this chapter is...sad...I guess...
> 
> (it's okay THERE WILL BE FRIENDSHIPS AND SMILES we'll get there together)

It was twenty minutes to Mihashi’s home by train. He spent them quietly pressed into a corner, ignored by the throng gently steaming around him, tucked into himself as much as he possibly could. This was the norm for him. An unremarkable existence and an unremarkable journey through life. This was what he wanted, he told himself, and tried to believe it.

His parents were still out when he dripped through the door. That was good, Mihashi decided. Mum would ask about his day and pay too much attention to what he didn’t say. Dad would be jolly and cajoling to a son who wasn’t in the mood for fun, not now. 

Mihashi didn’t know how he really felt about anything any more.

He’d promised his cousin that he’d watch the game. Ruri didn’t understand what had happened, what he’d put _them_ through, and he felt bad that he’d never told her. But it was shameful, and painful. Ruri didn’t need that. Better she thought him a coward, instead. He _was_ a coward. He _felt_ like a coward as he turned on the television and flipped through the channels until he found the right one. Mihashi set it to record, though the match hadn’t started yet, and shuffled into the kitchen to heat up leftover curry for a late lunch.

(A vague feeling told him he should be doing something _else_ , but Mihashi was too listless to try and remember it. Watch Kanou-kun’s game; wasn’t that enough?)

It was chilly in the house without anybody else home. Mihashi dredged up a blanket and curled up on the couch, staring blankly at the tv screen as he ate and waiting, as always, for the tangle of nerves inside him to stop writhing so painfully. How long had it been since he’d really felt happy? That was a question he shied away from, time after time. All the hurt was tangled together into a nasty little mess that kept him choking. It was too hard to figure it where it began anymore.

Still, when the game started up and Kanou-kun stepped onto the mound, Mihashi couldn’t quite help a little thrill of excitement. For all that had come between them, it was _good_ to see his friend play. He always looked like he belonged there, at the head of the team. The catcher gave him signs. The fielders cheered when he got an out. Yeah...Kanou-kun deserved this. He’d deserved it a long time ago. Mihashi had been bad to keep him from it.

But he wasn’t going to do that again. He’d given up on baseball forever, to atone for it all. Rubbing his thumb over his calluses, Mihashi thought about the strange boy from the coffee shop, and the equally-strange pattern he’d traced over his skin like an incantation. _Abe-kun stopped the rain?_ he’d asked, but that wasn’t right. He looked at his palm now and thought he could see the remnants of that pattern. It had seemed like magic. Was magic real? Was Abe-kun magic? How could you tell if someone was magic?

Being with Abe-kun was scary, but also warm. He’d looked after Mihashi, even though he didn’t know him. He’d cared enough to bring him the drink he’d had to leave behind. _That_ was a kind of magic. And he’d glowed, like he was something special. Maybe a guardian angel. Was someone like him deserving of a guardian angel?

Mihashi mulled this over, chin tucked into his knees. Abe-kun had said to come and watch baseball with other people. Surely that would be okay. It wasn’t like they were playing, after all. Watching with other people wouldn’t break his promise. The dorms...he had no idea where they were, but there should be a map at the office or something, right? Maybe he could do this. It’d be nice not to be alone…

He didn’t see it, but the mark Abe had drawn on his palm faded all at once, and suddenly Mihashi was soaked to the bone in all the water the hex had kept at bay. _That_ was the other thing he was supposed to remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> someone pls adopt this precious wee birb (abe this means you)


	4. Swing and a Hit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you want something done right, find someone with a good vantage point to take a look at the big picture for you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am The Worst  
> SORRY FRIENDS i have attempted this chapter about seven different ways and failed miserably. so i threw my idea out the window completely and started afresh. as a result, please accept this offering of scene-setting with kindness...i love you all very much...

It rained for a solid week, and when the sun came out it was sweltering. In the early morning, streets steamed. Buildings looked like they’d been given halos. People on the streets bemoaned the unseasonable heat for what was barely spring; towns less than two hours’ drive away were still experiencing proper weather. It was like Nishiura had its own localised heatwave.

Twenty stories up, dangling comfortably on a hoist platform, Momoe Maria surveyed the view her vantage point afforded her. Up here the air was slightly cooler, but the sun reflecting off the windows she cleaned negated any benefits. She was going through her canteen in record time. Behind the thick glass panes at her back, potted plants slowly turned towards the sun. She sighed and sketched a rune over one of her cleaning cloths, purifying the water it’d absorbed, and draped it over the back of her neck. She ran a fingertip over her squeegee blade, lips pursing around a simple cantrip, and cleared the last traces of water from the window. The spell she left in its wake was for the benefit of the drooping rubber plant that wasn’t happy in its pot; it got its own dedicated refraction. The spell would only last until the next rain (or heavy dew), but every little bit helped.

Momoe always had her lunch at height. There was something wonderful about it, like those dreams of flying, or like peering out of the window of an airplane. Bird’s eye view; everything unimportant dropped away, leaving only clarity and decision. It was a kind of magic all its own. With a deep breath she sharpened her gaze. Invoking True-Sight was tiring, but rewarding. She nibbled on onigiri and let the magic draw her attention where it thought she was needed. It took concentration to sort out the various images that flickered through her like this; the wrinkles in her brow were worth it.

Most of it was fairly mundane, things that others would deal with before she had the faintest chance. But the longer she gazed, the deeper her frown became. Something under her skin began to itch, a slow burning of warning. Sensing her worry, the magic followed this course and brought her more of the same. She couldn’t quite put her finger on what was wrong, but Momoe knew enough to realise she’d have to dig deeper for help.

There was a pall spreading venomous fingers over her city. It wasn’t shown in violence, or sickness, or even bad luck, but it was there. She could feel it - the weight of an omen too heavy to ignore. Momoe closed her eyes and let the spell go. She pursed her lips and put away her lunch. There were more windows to be cleaned, more potted plants in need of extra T.L.C, and after work…

It was time to pay a visit to Sensei.

. . .

Going back to her old high school was rather nostalgic. Momoe couldn’t help but breathe in the air, smiling at the few students still left about the place with club activities almost over. Small things had changed, of course - there was a new garden now, and the sports grounds were getting a small overhaul - but for the most part, it remained the place she’d done most of her growing up in.

Shiga-sensei’s habits hadn’t changed since she’d last had to ask his advice. Momoe found him easily enough, doing some last-minute grading in the teacher’s lounge before, presumably, heading home to his family. She knocked on the door, a little hesitant, but he looked up and smiled as warmly as ever. “Momoe! It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Have you been well?”

“Ah-- yes, thank you, Sensei.” She took the indicated seat across from him. “How are your wife, and the kids?”

“Doing well, thanks for asking. Jirou is graduating this year, can you believe it?! It doesn’t seem so long ago that you were in that same place.”

Momoe smiled. “It’s been nearly ten years already, Sensei.”

“Has it really? How time flies.” He readjusted his glasses, fixing her with the same piercing stare he used on math students who had clearly not done the required reading. “And what brings you to my door on this fine Tuesday?”

She took a deep breath, wondering how to lead into this, and decided to just dive in cold. “I need you to do a reading for me. Something’s coming, Sensei. Something… _big._ ” It was scary to say it aloud, but somehow Shiga-sensei didn’t look surprised. He merely nodded and reached for the locked top drawer of his desk. 

Shiga Tsuyoshi was perhaps the only person in the magical community that had both no magic whatsoever and no magical background. He’d stumbled into their world by accident and developed a fascination for it, but had no aptitude for even runes or charms. He was like an oasis of dedicated normality in a topsy-turvy dimension. However, he had one pertinent skill: he was _exceptionally_ good at reading people. And if he could read people, he could read Tarot.

His deck was old - second-hand at a jumble sale while on his honeymoon in Europe, actually - and tattered around the edges. Some Tarot readers wouldn’t let anybody handle their decks without proper cleansing, but Shiga-sensei had no compunctions against so-called cross-contamination. In fact, that was one of his deck’s strengths. You didn’t ask him for a reading about yourself; you got a reading about _everything._ Shiga-sensei merely personalised the interpretation so it was relevant for you.

“Take the deck and meditate,” he instructed in soft tones. “In through the nose...hold it for eight...out through the mouth. Again. Think about what brought you here. Think about your past, your present, and your future. Think about what’s important to you. Take all of these feelings and put them into the deck, until you can feel your life between your hands. In….and out…”

Momoe dutifully did as bid. It was strange, she always thought, that a man so unremarkably normal would know exactly what to do here, but he knew how to get through. Eventually she felt her consciousness step sideways, giving the nebulous universe the right to work through her as it saw fit. She felt Shiga-sensei nod. At his direction she shuffled the deck and drew out ten cards. He placed them into a spread - a Celtic Cross, she recognised vaguely - and Momoe dropped out of her meditation. It felt a little like stepping under a cold shower.

Shiga-sensei turned over the card that represented her, blocked by the challenge she’d taken up by coming here. “Ah,” he said, not sounding particularly surprised, “The Hermit.” Rubbing his chin, he seemed oblivious to the small sink of Momoe’s shoulders. “Enlightenment, distance-- hard work. Fitting, I think.”

She supposed it was. She’d never wanted to end up here alone, but life had its funny ways… “If that’s a joke about scaffolds, Sensei, I’m going to leave.” He laughed and flipped over her opposition card like it wasn’t important.

“Five of Cups! Interesting…” Opening his mouth as if to go through the card’s points, Sensei stopped himself and shook his head. “Well, let’s leave it until the end now. The important thing is that you’re definitely the fulcrum,” he mused, tapping her card. “Foundation is...oh, the Knight of Swords. Hmm. Past is - Five of Pentacles, now _that’s_ interesting. Ace of Wands? I’ll take that positively.” By now Momoe was squirming on her seat, anxious to know what conclusion he was reaching, but they were only halfway through. “Page of Pentacles _could_ be you; we’ll see. As for your emotions...Ten of Swords? Oh, _Momoe,_ ” he said sympathetically, “You’ve spent too much time blaming yourself for these things. No, we’ll get to that later. Externally we’re up against--” Shiga flipped the card and paled slightly. “The Tower. Well. That’s not ideal, but it--”

“Please just flip the last two,” she asked in a small voice, and hated herself for sounding so weak. With a deep breath, she forced her shoulders into her usual straight-edged posture, dredging up her self-confidence from where it was receding by the minute. Momoe tried again. “Flip them, Sensei. The sooner we know what we’re up against, the better.

Shiga-sensei regarded her for a long moment, then smiled faintly. “You’re right. Very well; next is the realm of Hope.” He turned the card over and breathed out, tight and relieved. ‘The Queen of Pentacles. That’s somewhat relieving. All that’s left is the Outcome.” They both held their breath as he reached for the last one. Momoe felt a little better when she noticed that his fingers were shaking slightly.

He turned it, and the relief was palpable. “Well, you don’t get much better than that. Six of Wands is a victorious card - not necessarily a card of finality, but positive. Hmm.” 

Momoe waited - rather patiently, she thought - as Sensei leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled under his chin and focus moving intently between her and the revealed spread. She knew better than to rush him. It was hard to wait for the blow to hit, but she did it, somehow; when he finally began to speak, she could feel her fingertips digging into her own thighs.

“Interesting. So, first we have-- ah, let me backtrack a little. Some explanation is in order, I think.” Shiga-sensei rubbed a hand over his chin thoughtfully. “This spread is very broad-spectrum, but that doesn’t mean it’s non-specific. It can be read a number of ways. Every reader has their own method; most trust in their own psychic abilities to edge them in the right direction.

"I have no magic, as you know. My readings rely on you to be the starting point, as it were, of this-- this _conversation_ with the Universe. No matter what you’re asking, even something as open-handed as _What’s happening in this town?_ , it’s going to produce answers in a way that are relevant to _you._ So even though I’m a totally neutral party, I’m going to be reading it with you in mind. I’m going to use what I know of you to make sense of this.”

Momoe shivered. Shiga-sensei was so easygoing, it was easy to forget that he was incredibly observant and incredibly _intense._ She knew, too, that he was warning her of what was to come. It wasn’t as if she avoided thinking about the past, or even that it was particularly painful; these days she simply found it bittersweet. But the thought that it might be somehow relevant to whatever malaise was creeping through Nishiura’s streets...well, that was something else, entirely.

But she squared her shoulders once more and nodded. 

“All right. Looking at the cards individually - the deck is obviously well-attuned to you. Well done! The Hermit is fitting for you in many ways. You’re a relentless self-improver. You don’t hoard your knowledge; you use everything you know to the best of your ability. You are benevolent and a natural leader of people.” Shiga-sensei pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “These traits, your keen eye, and your desire to use what you know to do good in the world have led you to this point - to being the champion of a heavy purpose.”

Momoe tried not to think of the Hermit’s other characteristics - of solitude, and even loneliness - as the teacher continued. He tapped the final card and gave her a reassuring smile. “As well as being the final piece of this puzzle, the Six of Wands can also tell us that you’re not alone in the fight. You will have support.”

He moved back to the cross, tapping the remaining five cards there in order. Now he frowned. “Normally the entire spread would relate directly back to you, but I don’t think that’s the case here. I _think_ the cards are showing you the similarities between yourself and what you may face. The crux of the matter,” Shiga-sensei smoothed the foxed edge of the card laying across her Hermit, “is represented by the Five of Cups. If it were for _you_ , I would suggest grief counselling - it speaks of mourning a loss, and a reminder that there is support available. However, knowing you as I do, I think this is your adversary.”

She frowned, staring at the faded card like it would speak to her any more clearly. “You think _they’re_ grieving? What am I supposed to do, find a rampant spirit or warlock or something and take them into a psychiatrist?”

Shiga-sensei held up his hands placatingly. “No, not at all. But often to defeat an enemy, you must first understand what motivates them. And my bet is that this one is - or was, at least originally - motivated by grief. Some kind of loss. As for the Knight, either they or someone they’re close to is quick to fight first and ask questions later. And only after _that_ will they stop to think about right or wrong. Momoe,” he regarded her very seriously, “be very careful. This person may not necessarily be evil, but they _are_ dangerous.

As for the Five of Pentacles...well, honestly, that just reinforces my theory of it being more than one person behind it all. It represents strength in utmost adversity, perseverance, and with the Knight there I’m convinced it makes that card more literally. You could be looking at a mastermind and their loyal counterpart.” He looked pensive. “More worrying is that Swords and Pentacles represent Air and Earth - two elements who don’t always mesh very well, but when they _do_ are frequently frighteningly powerful together. Plainly speaking: it’s a bad match-up at the beginning, but if one can make it work then it’s nearly invincible.”

Momoe didn’t like the sound of that.

“The Ace of Wands is another interesting addition. In this position it represents the best outcome, or your wisest course of action. I think this card is neutral, meaning there’s an advantage here that either you or your opponent could make use of. The Ace itself is the incarnation of passion in all its forms. It’s probably one of the most - if not _the_ most - positive cards in the Minor Arcana; it’ll be important for you to find it and make use of it.”

“It sounds like a sports term,” Momoe said without thinking. Sensei blinked at her, then laughed.

“It may well be! Sports aces _are_ often full of youthful passion and vigour, after all.” He pointed at the final card of the cross. “Now. This card is more immediately important than the Ace - it might even be the key to obtaining it. The Page of Pentacles has devotion and focus in spades; in a suit most often used to represent material wealth, he alone does what he does out of love rather than gain. Hard-working and dedicated. Find them, and you’re halfway there,” Shiga-sensei advised.

He paused to take a drink of water, and Momoe realised that they’d been sitting here for over an hour. Sensei’s family was no doubt waiting for him, but he’d taken the request of a former student so seriously that he was here instead, potentially helping her save the world (well, their hometown, at least). “Thank you for doing this,” she said humbly. Maybe he really _was_ a little bit magic, after all.

He capped his bottle and shook his head. “You’re not given to foolish flights of fancy, Momoe; if you say there’s something wrong happening, I believe you, and I want to help.” Starting at the bottom of the cards lined up beside the cross, he continued, “Now we’re out of the building blocks. The bottom of the staff is what give or takes your stability - you could say it’s the staff’s version of the third card.” _The Knight,_ she thought, and shivered again. “I think this card is partly for you and partly for your adversary. It most usually represents emotional blindness - being too close to a painful situation to see beyond it.”

“I’m not--” Momoe began, heated, but Sensei’s gentle look quelled her fire immediately.

He raised his hands again. “I know. Like I said, you’re level-headed. You’re not the type to beat yourself up over something you can’t prevent, or fix. But there’s nobody on this earth who isn’t given to some form of sentiment, and sometimes that can hamper the way we look forward.” Shiga-sensei’s gaze was piercing now. “Make sure it’s the opponent, not you, who can’t break free of the bitterness in their past.”

She sighed, thumb running over the callus inside her clenched palm. “Yes, Sensei.”

“Thatta girl. Next up is the card for external influences - things you may not be able to control, but which will have an effect on you either way. For this you drew the Tower.” His lips pursed. “The Tower can represent a breakdown, whether it’s of a relationship, like the two Lovers here, or of communication, or any number of things. In that way, there are kinder cards to pick. However, remember that most things in this world that corrode naturally do so for a reason, and don’t do so worthlessly. There is value in any change or metamorphosis. Sometimes it just has to happen, like a caterpillar into a butterfly. Sometimes the forest fire clears room for new seeds to sprout.

“Your card for Hope - and therefore also Fear - is the Queen of Pentacles. She is mother and keeper of material wealth, but also frugal and world-aware. As hope, you can see her as a reminder to work hard without losing sight of small happinesses. As fear, she can bring about loss of everything - self, possessions, anything at all. Hard work brings great reward but mustn’t be mistaken for the reward itself. Overwork is as dangerous as laziness.”

That was something she knew already; you didn’t help run a sports club for years without learning the merits of rest and relaxation. Momoe took the advice anyway - another reminder wouldn’t hurt. She stared at the final card. “That one’s for where we’re headed right now, isn’t it?” she asked, and Sensei nodded solemnly.

“As I said before, it’s a card associated with victory. It might not be conclusive victory, but you’re winning somewhere along the line, and that’s a good start. It’s also a show of support, a reaffirmation that you’re not alone. It’s a good card to match your Hermit; as a natural leader, the knowledge that your methods are getting through brings invaluable confidence. “

He returned to his steeple-fingered pose from when he’d begun, letting Momoe mull this over. “In conclusion, my thoughts are: You should be looking to put together a few people to support you in a quest to stop someone who possibly thinks the world needs to atone for taking something or someone from them, and quite probably has a very powerful ally on their side. It’s a pretty typical vision, really, but I think it’s pretty amazing that you’ve been shoulder-tapped for something like this!”

Momoe wished she shared his apparent enthusiasm. “I don’t know that I’m the right person for the job, really,” she mused. Sensei gave a knowing smile when she picked up the Hermit, staring at it like it held the answers for everything she’d ever asked. Well, it might, at that.

Finding her most determined look, she tossed the card back onto the spread. “Still, I’ll give it all I’ve got. Thanks, Shiga-sensei! I’ll be relying on you in the future.” Momoe smiled, the most genuine she’d felt in hours. “But for now I’ll let you get home.”

“You’re too kind,” he teased. “I look forward to helping. Remember: you’ve been given this task because you’re the best one for the job, so just fight in your own way. Don’t go thinking you’re not good enough.”

“I won’t,” she promised, taking her leave. The air was cooler now, crisp and refreshing. Her mind was already turning the problem and its clues over, trying to make everything fit properly. Fight in her own way? What _was_ her own way? Washing windows was certainly useful, and it paid the bills, but it was hardly world-shaking. Momoe started to tug her battered old baseball cap on and stopped, turning it around slowly in her hands.

She grinned, surprising passersby with the brightness of her epiphanic good mood. Well, when in doubt, there was one thing that was always right: it seemed like it was high time to play some ‘ball..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also i'm hella rusty with my tarot so just...be gentle with me please...

**Author's Note:**

> WIPES BROW i think this i my first ever attempt at a multi-chapter fic so...i'm not going to promise regular updates on x day or anything. WRITING IS HARD AND ALSO SCARY. this is an idea i've been kicking around in my head as original work but tbh the world needs more oofuri. thank you kind stranger for reading my work...i love you (but only as a friend).


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